


The battles we lost; the bodies we hid

by doctorziegler



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Blood, Bloodplay, Cannibalism, Consensual Violence, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Fluff and Smut, Genital Piercing, Gore, Guro, M/M, Monster Boyfriend, Oral Sex, Pseudo-Necrophilia, Schmoop, Smut, Trans Male Character, Undead, Vore, Wounds, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombie Boyfriend, consensual cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 19:37:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9340088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorziegler/pseuds/doctorziegler
Summary: Married couple Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes spend a romantic afternoon together after the end of the world.Oh, and Jack's a sentient zombie.Gabe's more than okay with it.(Written for Day 1 ofReaper76 Week:  “How We Were” - History/Decay.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> obviously, this is inspired by the 'decay' part of the prompt, and i know this is HUGELY interpretive and not. what was intended. but i was inspired to write zombie AU so HERE IT THE FUCK IS.
> 
> oh and gabriel is trans in this because gabriel is always trans if i'm writing gabriel. #cw warning if words like pussy/cunt/clit make u feel dysphoric!!
> 
> [ [twitter](https://twitter.com/heatvisions) / [nsfw twitter](https://twitter.com/DOOOMZO) ]

“Soft flesh is eaten by hard teeth.”  
― Isaac Marion,  _Warm Bodies._

* * *

 

"Gabe?"

Jack's voice rang through the silent, halfway-dilapidated house that he and his lover currently called home, only bothering to stop and kick the dirt and mud off of his shoes out of habit before wandering up the remains of what was once an undoubtedly attractive staircase.

He refused to let himself panic outright, despite the way his stomach dropped at the lack of a response. It had hardly even been sunrise when he'd to procure food and water for the rest of the week, however; maybe Gabriel had simply decided to go back to sleep, or he'd gone out into the yard to tend to their garden, or  _some_ other logical, reasonably explanation that didn't involve—

That didn't involve Gabriel being  _dead_ , for one thing. "... Gabriel—?" The one thing, the ever-present fear that haunted Jack, day in and day out, no matter how well-barricaded he and Gabriel's makeshift abode was. That one damn fear that Jack knew he'd never be rid of— at least, not until Gabriel's dying day.

As in, dying-of-old- _age_ dying-day, if God was still listening. If God had ever listened, at all; God hadn't lifted a fucking finger despite the screams of His children as they'd died in droves, torn down and ripped apart by their fellow man as the virus that had undone all of civilization over the course of a few weeks had spread across the globe, so Jack couldn't be entirely sure He'd give a shit about the desperate pleas of a single man for the longevity of his spouse.

He certainly hadn't answered  _Gabe's_ prayers on Jack's death-day, when the pussing, bloody bite-mark on his neck had finally undone all of he and Gabriel's careful planning. Jack could still recall the way Gabriel had looked, back then: utterly defeated, crumpled and broken as he wept into his rosary and Jack's dog tags both, bidding an unprepared farewell to the love of his life as well as offering up a curse to an absent god, one who'd condemned a whole world to an apocalypse of its own making.

Of course, as was typical of the virus, Jack had awoken mere hours later, with a massive choke-collar around his throat and a chain sturdy enough that it might even have been used in a mechanical winch, once upon a time. He'd felt... odd, for a dead man— an  _un_ dead man, he supposed, but— who knew how the infected felt, when there hadn't been enough time before society's collapse to properly study them? His joints ached as he'd gotten to his knees, blood-red eyes searching for Gabriel, if only to see him, one last time—

"I'm in here, baby," Gabriel's soft voice dragged Jack back to the present, his spouse sticking his head out of their bedroom for long enough to gesture for the other man to join him. "I didn't hear you come in," he continued, and Jack shook his head almost disbelievingly, impressed that Gabriel could manage to be calm enough even now, in the middle of the abyss they called home, to lose himself in the pages of a good book. "I was—"

"Reading," Jack answered, pulling the book from between Gabe's fingers and examining its weathered spine. "I know. You stayed up  _way_ too late again last night because of this thing."

With a pointed roll of those dark, chocolate-brown eyes, Gabriel snatched the book back, returning to his nest of blankets and pillows on their bed. "So what? Not like I've gotta worry about missing work nowadays, in case you've, y'know." He gestured out the boarded-up windows absently, not bothering to actually waste a glance towards them. "Forgotten about the whole 'end of the world' thing that happened a while ago."

Jack sighed, setting his backpack— the one he'd filled his provisions from his early-morning trek— onto the foot of the bed, then settled himself nearer to Gabriel on the mattress. "Huh. Wow." With a pale eyebrow arched, Jack removed the motorcycle scarf that obscured a majority of his face, revealing the extensive damage and decay that lay beneath the tatty old fabric. "When did  _that_ happen? I hadn't noticed," his voice was laced with heavy sarcasm, dragging two leather-gloved fingers up the underside of Gabe's foot, eliciting a wild kick and a snorting laugh in response to the impromptu tickle. "I sure hope there aren't  _zombies_. Zombies are creepy."

"Ha- _ha_ , very funny, Morrison," Gabriel only called his husband by his surname when he was particularly exasperated with the man's behavior, but, to be fair, that didn't happen all that often anymore. It was hard to get into arguments with the husband you'd  _buried_ — the husband who'd proven that, while Death had certainly been prepared for him, he didn't feel anywhere  _near_ the same. "If you're that worried about zombies, better keep away from the bathroom mirror, smart-ass."

Ouch.

Sometimes, Gabe could be a little harsh in his honesty, but Jack supposed there was no better to deal with his present... condition than to just man-up and accept it, no matter how tough it was to get over the overwhelming body dysmorphia that hounded him day and night.

* * *

_"Gabriel," Jack had whispered, voice still raw from his death rattle, the rain washing away patches of bloodied, torn skin, the droplets creating a symphony atop the expensive leather of his jacket as Gabriel huddled in it, barely out of arms reach. Barely out of arms reach, despite all that they'd talked about— that if the worst should happen, and either of them become infected, they'd do the only thing left to do: they'd run, run for their fucking life, and leave the other behind. What else was there to do, when the only alternative was to witness the man you'd spent more than half of your life loving becoming a literal flesh-eating abomination, a soulless, mindless husk of who'd once been?_

_"Gabriel, it's me."_

* * *

To this day, Gabriel hadn't told him either way what he'd been intended to do— had he been prepared to allow Jack to bite, to infect, to kill him, so that he wouldn't have to survive in the wasteland alone? Had he planned to keep Jack as some sort of pet, one he could throw bones and strips of meat to— but never, ever approach— like some feral, untouchable dog? Jack didn't care to know the truth of what had been going on in Gabriel's mind that day, when he'd lifted his head from his arms and  _stared_ , utterly disbelieving of the fact that Jack was speaking coherently, let alone uttering his lover's name with absolute clarity.

Jack, as it had turned out, had some sort of immunity to...  _some_ aspect of the virus or another, and this genetic oddity had allowed him to retain his higher brain functions, though he was still, for all intents and purposes, otherwise identical to the other infection:

A reanimated corpse.

Which meant that he looked the part, for better or worse, and— well, needless to say, looking like some sort of ivory-skinned leper wasn't exactly great for a guy's self-esteem, especially not for a Prom King-type of Jack Morrison's extraordinary caliber. 

When Jack was silent for a few moments, Gabriel's face changed, softened ever-so slightly; Gabe knew he'd said something to upset Jack, however minute, and Gabriel hadn't ever been as overbearingly smothering in regards to Jack's feelings as he was these days. Jack supposed he couldn't honestly blame the man for the abrupt change in attitude—  _he'd_ been overprotective after Gabriel had broken an ankle on-stage, years ago, and it had taken Gabriel months before he was even willing to go outside in sandals, for fear of showing off his 'deformed leg'.

There hadn't been anything wrong with the extremity, post-healing, apart from the aches and pains that accompanied any fractured joint, but Gabriel had  _felt_ misshapen, like the accident had somehow altered him beyond repair, and Jack hadn't quite understood why until now.

What Jack wouldn't have given for a simple broken bone, though, in exchange for the mess he  _actually_ was these days.

"And there I go, playing 'the bitchy spouse' again," Gabriel said dejectedly, scooting forward on the bed and taking Jack's face between his hands. "I'm sorry, handsome. You know my L.A.-boy mouth's got a mind of its own, even at the best of times. Worst of times. Whatever." Without requesting permission, Gabriel removed Jack's sunglasses— the only thing that hid Jack's inhuman eyes from the world. They'd been blue, once upon a time, but now they—  _it_ was red, in the eye he still had— the one on the right, and on the left there was only a socket (hidden away behind a patch, of course) where an eye used to be. He'd lost it only a few days after 'dying', and it'd been the first of many seemingly-grievous injuries he'd suffer throughout his time as one of the infected. 

As if being cold as ice and white as a sheet weren't enough, of course he had to look grotesque, _and_ be horrifically scarred, lest his badge of 'zombie pride' be revoked.

Gabriel's body felt warm, delicious warmth against his perpetually-chilled frame, and Jack was only too happy to accept the deep kiss his husband offered him in recompense for his cheap shot to the man's appearance. Jack looped an arm around Gabe's waist, appreciating the other man's hourglass figure for what felt like the trillionth time in his life— and death?— as they explored each other's mouths, Gabriel's tongue dragging across the exposed teeth, gum, and sinew on the side of Jack's mangled face. 

The first time they'd kissed like this, Jack had been terrified his saliva alone would be enough to infect Gabriel, but— it  _hadn't_ , by some miracle or another. As Gabriel had grown less and less reluctant of exploring Jack's newfound 'immortality', so had Jack's fear of transferring his condition to Gabriel— it seemed, for whatever reason, that he wasn't capable of transferring the virus to another living person, not even if he  _bit_ Gabriel during their romantic tussles, and not even if said bites were hard enough to draw blood.

Which, Jack would insist until the end of time, had been an  _accident_ , the very first time, and that Gabe had goaded him into the whole thing, anyway.

Jerk.

Who the hell was he to resist any offering of Gabriel's flesh, anyway? "Gabe," Jack mumbled, teeth grazing Gabriel's plump lower lip as he reluctantly broke away from the kiss, "it's  _fine_ ; don't worry about it. You don't need to treat me like I'm that damn fragile, no matter how badly I know you want to." Jack thudded their foreheads together, planting one more fleeting kiss to Gabriel's mouth— as best he could, with only a fraction of his own lips still remaining, and what  _was_ there was scarred, and tugged in all manner of unnatural angle— before shimmying out of his lover's grasp, scooping up the backpack full of supplies he'd been intended to show off to Gabriel in the first place. "Brought you breakfast in bed, by the way."

"Lucky me. Does it even count as breakfast, though, when it's in the middle of the day?" Gabriel tried to peek into the bag in Jack's hands, but to no avail, being held at arms length by his supernaturally-strong lover. 

" _Brunch_ in bed, then, genius, if you're seriously gonna argue semantics with me after the whole damn's world gone and ended." 

Jack pulled out unopened packets of jerky and various other cured meats, doing his best not to notice the near-ravenous way Gabriel sunk his teeth into the food as soon as he got his hands on it. He was so much thinner, now, and Jack thought to himself that he'd be willing to do, to sacrifice anything if it meant Gabriel could go back to eating fast-food garbage like McDonald's and KFC every other day. "Got these, too," Jack added, removing a foggy jar of pickles from his backpack— canned food— or anything aged— were the only things left for Gabriel to eat without fear of food poisoning, in the cities, and Jack knew they'd have to head into the countryside sooner rather than later if they'd have any hope of surviving the ever-growing food shortage. "They're the garlic kind, too; your—"

"My favorite," Gabriel finished through a mouthful of jerky, grabbing the jar and setting it onto the bedside table with a crooked smile. "You spoil me, Jackie-boy."

As if pickles and salted meat made up for a satisfying meal, but that was all Jack could do, under the circumstances. Still, there was no sarcasm laced into Gabriel's grateful words, and Jack knew that the man really was thankful for the offering. They'd seen enough people who'd long since starved to death in the wasteland, and Jack did his damnedest to make sure Gabriel had  _something_ to eat, every single day, no matter how small a portion it may be. "Just doin' my job," Jack admitted, almost sheepishly, dropping his pack to the floor— he'd deal with the light bulbs and toothbrushes later, after he'd made sure Gabriel didn't cheat himself out of a complete meal just to preserve food 'for later'.

With the world the fucked-up way it was now, Jack found that the philosophy of 'eating your dessert first' was a much, much more fulfilling way to live. Who knew if there'd even  _be_ a tomorrow, or if they'd both be there to see it, when it did roll around?

"Get anything for yourself, babe?" 

Gabriel's voice dragged Jack's attention back to his lover, though Jack was still doing his best to ignore the enticing way Gabe's teeth were working through the tough meat he held in-hand. "Ah," Jack rubbed the back of his neck, cracked fingernails scratching at an open wound on his nape that refused to close up over despite how many times he'd patched it up. "No. I didn't—... there weren't any bodies I came across that the vultures and crows hadn't already gotten to."

Besides, he  _hated_ eating that shit; corpses tasted like ash, and the spongy texture of their flesh probably would've made him vomit, if his body was still capable of actually  _doing_ that kind of thing. 

"Jack..." Gabriel frowned, setting the emptied packets aside and dragging his lover back onto the mattress alongside him. "You haven't eaten in days; not like you're gonna starve, but we've seen how dangerous it can be, if you go too long without—" 

"Without 'fresh meat'," Jack turned his face away as he spoke, even as Gabriel's fingers came up to rest against his jaw, gently encouraging him to look back at his lover. "Without  _killing_ someone, you mean. Gabe, you know I hate it; I've been fine, haven't I? Better than before; I don't let the urges get the better of me anymore, baby— I'm learning to control it, I  _am_ —"

Suddenly, Jack found himself forced onto his back, with Gabriel straddling his hips and the man's fingers coiled around his wrists. "Right. 'Control'. So, if I stuck my tongue in your mouth right now, you're telling me there's no risk  _what_ soever that you'd just bite it in half?" Gabriel nudged his nose against the underside of Jack's chin, keeping the man's arms pinned as he planted hot kisses to his lover's unnaturally pale skin. "You trust your 'control' that much, Morrison? You wanna prove it?"

He didn't; of course he didn't, not when Gabriel still had bandages wrapped around his throat, his biceps from the last time Jack had gotten too overzealous with his lover. Jack's peculiar condition meant that his bite wasn't contagious, not in the way other members of the infected were, but— for all he fucking knew, maybe Gabriel had just  _adapted_ to the virus, now, thanks to how often he found himself on the receiving end of Jack's saliva. "Gabriel—"

"Shut up," Gabriel's shirt was up and over the man's head in a matter of moments, discarded on the plush-carpeted bedroom floor as he put his irresistible body on display. "You risk never coming home every single time you step out that door so you can be sure I won't starve; why the fuck aren't I allowed to do the same for you?"

 _Because satiating my appetite requires tiptoeing around the idea that I fantasize about tearing you to shreds,_ Jack didn't say aloud, mostly for his own sake, though both he and the pushy man above him knew the reasons behind Jack's hesitance well enough.  _Because I'd die a hundred times if it meant keeping you safe, and you're asking me to hurt you, over and over again, for my own fucking sake. Like I could ever be so damn selfish._

_Like you actually want me to be that fucking selfish._

"Gabe—" But it was too late now, wasn't it, with Jack's tongue tracing the edges of his teeth as he mimed the motion of licking his lips, despite not having much in the way  _of_ lips these days. He felt parched, truly, desperate for a taste of what his lover was so selflessly offering up to him. Gabriel stripped out of his boxers and effectively shut any of Jack's oncoming rebukes down, Jack's mouth going bone-dry as soon as Gabriel began to crawl higher, hips swaying enticingly, that thick ass raised high in the air for only a moment more— right before he finished his journey, his sex hovering only a few inches above Jack's salivating maw. "... Not gonna take 'no' for an answer this time, huh? Not even gonna give me a damn chance to. You're impossible."

"Fucking right, I am, when it comes to you. Now," Gabriel gripped a fistful of Jack's white-blond hair, tugging the man's head back so that Jack's chin nearly brushed against Gabe's clit as he did so, "get to it and eat up, pretty-boy, and before I lose my nerve."

'Lose his nerve'— because he  _was_ scared, and why wouldn't he be? Jack could feel Gabriel's thighs trembling on either side of his head, those strong fingers curling and flexing in his hair, telltale signs that Gabriel truly was afraid of what was to come. Which, of course, meant that his pulse was racing, heart pounding, and Jack could smell it, ached to taste it, just as much as he could smell, as much as he ached to taste Gabriel's pretty cunt.

Well.

If Gabriel insisted, who was he to deny the undeniable man?

With an almost bestial growl, Jack pressed his mouth against Gabriel's inner thigh, relaxing his jaw and almost experimentally sinking his teeth into the pliant flesh atop him. Thanks to the transformations he'd undergone postmortem, Jack's teeth were impossibly sharp— could cut into human flesh like razors, and Gabriel probably didn't even feel the bite until Jack began to tug, to chew— to eat.

To _feast_.

And, of course, once Jack started, it became extremely difficult for him to stop.

'Instinctual urges' and all that accompanied his present condition, of course.

The meat of Gabriel's thigh was incredibly tough, Jack found, working muscle that was much too sinewy to be confused with a nice, home-cooked meal. Still, it was arguably the best thing Jack had tasted in months, in what felt like, ages, and the overwhelming dual sensation of blood gushing out of Gabriel's open, messy wound and into his mouth combined with Gabriel's slickening sex rubbing up against his tattered cheek were more than enough to drive Jack into a borderline-primal frenzy. He wanted to fuck Gabriel into a state of mindlessness, to devour him whole, to do both at once, and more— and, the worst thing was, that Jack knew Gabriel would let him, if he'd only ask.

Gabriel moaned loudly, audibly surprised, the sound caught somewhere between pleasure and pain as Jack delved his tongue into the hole he'd made in Gabriel's thigh. God, but he tasted so  _sweet_ , and Jack couldn't help but take advantage of the incredibly erotic position his lover'd placed him in; Gabriel knew damn well that Jack's favorite pastime in the whole world was eating his lover's plump pussy, and there was no way in hell that Gabriel hadn't chosen this position for that very reason.

Jack got dinner  _and_ dessert, and back-to-back, without Gabriel needing to lift so much as a finger.

Talk about a gifted housewife, right?

Wordlessly, Jack hummed to express his delight, moving to position a thumb over Gabriel's pierced clit, rubbing teasingly against it as he began to tongue and suck at Gabriel's torn flesh in some macabre mimicry of cunnilingus. 

"Oh," was all that Gabriel managed in immediate response, grinding his puffy labia against the side of Jack's face, smearing slick all over his lover's mangled visage. "Holy  _fuck_ , Jack, that's— what the fuck, that feels—  _weird_ ; hurts, baby, just a little—"

At this angle, Jack could taste Gabriel's flesh and slick, with how opened-up his face was, allowing his lover's wet cunt to drip practically into his mouth, straight through his partially-decayed cheek. It was— it was perfect like this, Jack thought, better than any time he'd bitten Gabriel before. Jack's remaining eye fluttered shut as he allowed himself to give in to the pleasure of it all; the way Gabriel tasted, felt, sounded as he allowed Jack to eat his fill as well as provide Gabriel a satisfactory surface to get himself off on.

Jack'd be content playing the role of Gabe's sex toy for the rest of his life— unlife— even without the gory treat Gabriel had offered up alongside it, and both men knew that to be true well enough that neither needed to say it outright.

For crying out loud, Jack wondered, momentarily abandoning the tooth-carved gape in Gabriel's flesh to drag his tongue over the man's pulsing cunt, how'd he ever get lucky enough to find a guy still willing to fuck somebody, in the utterly monstrous state Jack was currently in? Not like he'd ever ask, though.

Maybe Gabriel had some kinda niche zombie-fetish, and Jack wasn't quite sure to find that out about his already-morbid-enough lover.

... Did having a thing for zombies count as necrophilia, though, or not?

_Jack Morrison, I swear, stop thinking and get that smart mouth of yours to work before Gabriel smothers you to a premature second death with that fat ass you love so much._

With both of his hands, Jack grasped Gabriel's thick hips, tugging the man down lower and directly onto his face, abandoning his bloody meal in exchange for an even sweeter one. Sure, he hadn't eaten that much of Gabe's leg— Gabriel would  _die_ , if Jack actually ate his fill— and he knew Gabriel would complain about it later, but right now, he'd taken enough to feel sufficiently sated, and satisfying  _Gabriel_ as thanks for all the man sacrificed for him seemed much more important than downing a few more chunks of his lover's delectable meat. Jack knew that one of the reasons Gabriel seemed to insist they fuck during or immediately after offering Jack a bite of his flesh was that the pleasure helped distract him from the pain, and Jack was anything but blind to the ordeal it put his spouse through; he saw the way Gabriel moved much more slowly nowadays, slept longer hours, appeared more sickly than he ever had throughout their life together before.

Jack was killing him, slowly, and this he knew all too well— and Jack still didn't know what to do with the fact that Gabriel was allowing him to, was practically encouraging it, nor did he have any idea how to bring it up in conversation.

Or if Gabriel even expected him to.

_''Til death do us part' is a load of bullshit, right, baby? Didn't stop us last time._

_Won't do a thing to tear us apart when it's your turn, either._

_You can be I'll make sure of that._

"Jack,  _ho_ ly fuck, yeah," Gabriel's hips were rolling perpetually downward as Jack angled up to meet him, blood gushing down Gabriel's thigh and onto the sheets and nearly driving Jack into a hazy state of near-drunkenness. It smelled so good mixed in with the scent of Gabriel's sex, felt so perfect beneath his exploratory fingertips, his ugly mouth smearing Gabriel's own blood— as well as bits and chunks of his own thigh onto,  _into_ him, which would promptly gush back into Jack's open mouth as Gabriel's hole gaped wantonly, urging Jack to eat that pretty pussy with more and more vigor as the seconds ticked by. "Jack, Jack— there,  _right_ there; oh, shit, don't stop, baby don't,  _aah_ —"

With Gabriel's clit— that cute little pierced dick of his— buried in Jack's mouth, barbel between the man's teeth, Jack's chin rubbed against Gabriel's hole, just enough pressure to get him off without Jack needing to— to what? What was he doing with his hands, anyway, that was so important; what was so slick and wet and warm, if it wasn't Gabriel's cunt—?

All of a sudden, Gabriel screamed in startled surprise, and Jack's fingers buried themselves to the knuckle in  _heat_ , but not of the same kind that was currently enveloping his mouth:

He'd forced his fingers into the hole of devoured flesh that he'd chewed into Gabriel's thigh, and now he was fingering it, like Gabriel'd grown a brand new fuck-hole for his lover to take advantage of in the heat of the moment. Jack shuddered as Gabriel cried out again and again, wordless pleas for release— from the agony, from the bliss, as he ground his cunt into Jack's mouth over and over in time with his own howls and Jack's invasive fingers and tongue alike. Fingers in his  _leg_ , plugging the sloppy, bloody hole up like a stopper, tongue laving shamelessly against his clit, the piercing making a familiar clicking sound every time it knocked against Jack's teeth.

Gabe was close, and Jack knew it— could tell by the shortness of his breath, by the way he'd begun to play with his own tits, dark nipples pinched between his thumbs and forefingers, pressing his pelvis down against Jack's mouth like he intended to fuck the man's jaw clean off.

... His jaw... clean... wait— "Gabr—"

But it was way, way too late to stop him now; Gabriel shouted his lover's name at the top of his lungs as he came, hard, grabbing Jack's hair with both hands as he ground down against the man's torn-up mouth, too caught up in the moment to reach the same conclusion that Jack had only just come to:

His jaw  _was_ coming off, and Gabriel's trademark violent orgasms were just the thing to finally dislodge the whole damn thing.

And, as Jack had suspected mere seconds before Gabriel'd come, it  _did_ snap off, at least on the more decayed of the two sides of Jack's face. Just— fucking came loose, beneath Gabriel's hips, dropping the man down a few more inches, until Jack could feel Gabe's pulsating cunt against his throat.

"Wh— wha—  _what_ the—"

Gabriel jerked backwards and onto Jack's bloodied chest, eyes still lidded as he tried to ride out the waves of pleasure his orgasm had washed over him—, and, undoubtedly, dizzy and mildly disoriented due to the blood loss from before Jack had plugged the wound with his own fingers. "Jack, what the fuck; oh my  _god_ , Jack, your— your fucking  _face_ , holy  _fucking_ fuck; did I—!"

Jack looked up at Gabriel with a combination of sheer amusement and disdain, a struggle of a laugh escaping him as he propped himself up on his elbows and finally dislodged his fingers from Gabriel's flesh. "Ouch," he mumbled; though, with his jaw hanging loosely by a few bits of muscle and tendon and crooked bone, the word sounded more like 'alk'. His tongue dangled loosely, and too visibly, at the back of his throat, no longer properly supported by his lower jaw so it just...  _hovered_ , unnaturally, and Jack could tell Gabriel was staring. At it. 

At everything.

At what he'd just accidentally done.

"I'm fine," Jack assured his now-panicking lover, though, once again, it sounded more like a drunken slur of nonsense than actual speech. "Gabe, calm down." ' _Gaeh, cong dah_ ', it translated to, in plain English, at best. 

Suddenly, the look of sheer hysteria on Gabriel's thoroughly-fucked face— in tandem with the knowledge of how, exactly, his battered jaw had finally,  _finally_ come loose after all this time hit Jack, and the man began to laugh. A low chuckle at first, and then it transformed into a full-bellied howl, and Jack imagined that it appeared to his lover that he'd gone completely off the rails, now, and that the sex-induced injury had somehow thrown him into a state of madness otherwise kept at bay.

That thought, too, only succeeded in making Jack laugh harder, and before he knew it, Gabriel had joined in, burying his face against the headboard and giggling with abandon.

"... Can we fix it, you think? With a little T.L.C.?" Gabriel asked, a few minutes later, once he and Jack had expended more laughter than either of them had felt capable of in weeks. He was laying curled up against Jack's side, now, freshly-bandaged leg tucked between Jack's legs— against his soft cock, which was yet again a subtle reminder that dead bodies, unfortunately, could not orgasm, nor get erect, no matter how hard Gabriel insisted on disproving that scientific fact. "I mean, at least, like. A  _little_. I'd like to be able to  _understand_ you, sometimes. Maybe. Hey, maybe this isn't so bad, actually, if I stop and think about it."

Jack rolled his eyes and used his elbow to conk Gabriel on the top of the head, currently attempting to use stitches and wires and screws to reattach his jaw in  _some_ semblance of working order.

Gabriel stroked his fingers across Jack's pale scalp affectionately, leaning in to plant a warm kiss to the blond's temple before moving to get out of the bed, undoubtedly intending to grab more supplies for Jack's makeshift surgical endeavor. "I'll be right back; I love you, babe," he said as he moved to cross the threshold and into the hallway— then stopped, spun on his heel— wobbling only slightly on his gored leg, then leaned against the door frame and grinned at his undead lover with a look that immediately made Jack's heckles raise. "Can you believe I fucked your  _jaw_ off, though, seriously?  _How_ often have you said you wanted me to crush your head in my thighs, like, and I actually  _almost_ succeeded this time—"

With lightning-quick reflexes, Gabriel dodged the roll of bloody gauze that Jack catapulted directly at the other man's beautifully smug face, both of them laughing as Gabriel turned to head towards the bathroom and make himself useful. 

"I  _can_ believe it, Gabe," Jack said to the suddenly-empty room, in the direction of Gabriel's barefooted pitter patter, and was surprised to hear the words come out mostly intelligible— at long fucking last.  _Trust me, baby, with you?_

_I can absolutely fucking believe it._

[THE END]


End file.
